


Halflings

by HawthornDragonHeartstring



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cutting, Depression, Discrimination, Drinking, Eventual adoribull, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Modern Girl in Thedas, Panic Attacks, Rite of Tranquility, it's only a memory and I'll mark the chapter it's in, no set update schedule
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 11:20:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18009968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthornDragonHeartstring/pseuds/HawthornDragonHeartstring
Summary: 26 year old Maire Clare Cassidy is visiting her parents’ grave.24 year old Harillin Roth is buying throwing knives in Lowtown.The sky explodes in green light, and both their lives are changed forever.





	Halflings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maire - My-rah  
> Aiofe - Ee-fah  
> Ailbhe - Al-vah

Christmas eve was tomorrow, and Maire wasn't looking forward to it. While much of the world would be celebrating, surrounded by family, Maire would be surrounded by hers in a much darker way.

Does anyone actually look forward to visiting a graveyard?

She sighed, dropping her face into her hands. It'd been more than ten years since she'd truly enjoyed Christmas, and after the accident it had only gotten worse. Every joint in her body ached, and she huffed before dry swallowing a couple painkillers.

"I wasn't aware Dr. Langley employed druggies."

She jumped at the voice, glancing up to see a wiry woman glaring down at her.

"Excuse me?" Maire fought to hold back her brogue, pushing away her indignation at the woman's tactless choice of words.

"You. Popping pills while on the clock. I have half a mind to report you right now," She slapped a press ID on the desk, tutting "I have a very wide readership. Imagine what would happen to the good Doctor's reputation if it got out that her employee was doing drugs at the front desk."

Maire closed her eyes, taking a calming breath before retrieving the ID.

 _Kathy Bellmont_  
_Chicago Science Weekly_

"Miss Bellmont, my apologies but it appears you're appointment with Dr. Langley was scheduled for yesterday, December 22nd."

Kathy Bellmont's face turned a rather beet-like color that Maire had never seen a human sport before. As an Irish woman, that was particularly surprising considering her own pink, freckle-spotted skin.

The woman spluttered, indignant, "Yesterday? That is simply not possible. Check your calendar again!"

Maire did as she was asked, making a show of checking the dates on her computer. In her focus, she almost missed the woman's haughty whisper.

"Idiot receptionist."

Her hands froze on her keyboard. She took another calming breath, and cranked up the charm. A dazzling smile turned toward Kathy, almost unnerving in its pleasantness.

"Miss Bellmont. I will talk to Dr. Langley about the possibility of rescheduling your interview. If that is inadequate, I would advise you to keep better track of your appointments in the future."

Dull coral lips flapped as a dumbfounded Kathy Bellmont processed Maire's words.

"Miss Bellmont? Do I make myself clear?"

The once snobbish woman shrunk in on herself, nodding timidly.

"Wonderful. Now if you could fill out this form for me, I will get back to you with appointment information as soon as I can."

Maire passed a sheet of paper towards the woman, and ten minutes later she was enjoying the sweet silence of an empty lobby. 'Miss Bellmont's were par for the course in Maire's job. That's what happened when you were the personal secretary of one of Chicago's most influential inventors. People always wanted something, and Maire could generally make them feel like they got it, whether they did or not. Perks of being a good actress and an even better liar.

The date on her computer's calendar blinked at her, almost like a warning. The 23rd of December. One day before Christmas Eve. Before the anniversary of her parents' deaths.

As if she would ever get that date wrong.

When Maire finally got home that evening, she dropped onto her bed without bothering to change. Tomorrow Maire could deal with it. Today Maire was just too damn _done_.

\--------

That night, Maire dreamt of a world in grayscale. She wandered down a smooth cobblestone path that lead into a town square. The town itself was cartoonish; houses and buildings were flat and disproportionate. The people drifting through the street were sluggish and lethargic. As she stared around her, she felt something dark slip into her mind. She shook her head, willing it to clear, but the feeling was insidious. It tugged at her subconscious, poking and prodding her darkest memories.

Apathy set in with the gray. She could feel herself draining like a tap. All the color and life she'd been carrying with her started to fade, and after a moment, she started to let it.

Everything would be so much easier if she just stopped. Stopped trying. Stopped caring. Maire gave in to the gray, letting apathy and lethargy take hold of her everything. She sank to the ground, falling back until she saw the stars. Even they had dimmed considerably. All she wanted in that moment was to let herself die; to let the darkness take hold of her completely.

So that's what she did.

Maire woke in a cold sweat, nauseous. She clutched her stomach and curled in on herself, her form wracking with the power of her sobs.

\--------

It was a family tradition to take a swig of Jameson at a funeral, so Maire thought it was appropriate for grave visits. She couldn't really call it a new tradition, considering her lack of family to share it with. Maire grabbed the Irish whiskey from the counter, filling her silver hip flask as much as she could.

She glanced at herself in the mirror and shrugged on her black trench coat. Long ginger hair fell past her shoulders in a complicated fishtail braid, contrasting with her green sweater in a way that made her look more Irish than usual. Even her freckles stuck out, a strange thing in winter. She patted her pockets in one last check: phone, keys, flask, and pocket knife.

With a deep breath, Maire started the trek towards her families' graves, stopping only to pick up two bouquets of clovers and baby's breath she'd ordered from the florist.

The graveyard itself was quiet, though the surrounding streets were bustling with last minute Christmas shoppers. She followed the broken cobble path through the barren field, splitting off near the back corner to find a set of familiar bronze headstones.

She knelt in front of the larger first.

 _Fergus and Aoife Cassidy_  
_December 24, 2011_

Around the monogram was an intricate pattern of Celtic knots, culminating in one large triquetra embossed at the bottom. Maire ran a hand along the symbol before placing one of the bouquets on it.

"Hi mom. Hi dad. I miss you guys. Things haven't really changed much since last year. If anything, things have gotten harder. I'm still alone, workin' at that soul-sucking job," Maire glanced at her hands, "I'm trying so hard to keep going. I know that's what you'd want. But you can't hold it against me if I fail, okay?"

She sniffed, holding back tears.

"I'm sorry."

It was a good half an hour before Maire had gotten her composure back enough to move to the smaller headstone. The pattern around the monogram was almost exactly the same as the one on her parents' grave. She stared at the name.

 _Ailbhe Bryce Cassidy_  
_Lost_  
_October 2008_

Lost. She hated that wording. They'd had a funeral for her younger brother three years after he went missing, her parent's citing a need for closure.

Maire thought it was bullshit.

If they were going to bother to write lost on his headstone, then they hadn't truly given up on finding him. What closure was there in that? But Maire didn't have long to be upset about the semantics before her parents' accident later that year. Though she'd had time to get used to Ailbhe's disappearance, with the funeral for her only brother happening mere months before the funeral for her remaining family, 2011 was easily the worst year in Maire's memory.

She shook her head to clear it, and placed the other bouquet on Ailbhe's headstone.

"Hey Al. It's been a long year. Hard to believe it's been eight since you went missing. You need to come home already Ailbhe. At the very least you need to let me know where the fuck you are. Why you left us. Left me-" Maire cut off with a sob, "I don't want to be alone anymore, Ailbhe. I can't. I won't hold on much longer at this rate."

Tears slipped down Maire's cheeks, warm for only a moment before the cold air swept in.

"I need you, Ailbhe. I need a purpose."

There was a flash of green light, exploding mere inches from Maire's face. She yelped as the force sent her skidding a few feet away. Her heartbeat sped as she stared at the space where her brother's headstone once sat.

There was a gaping hole ripped into the very air. It pulsed and danced with a simultaneously sickening and intriguing scene. Maire could see a woman through the space. She was floating, terror twisting her features.

"Someone! Help me!"

Maire ignored the ping of familiarity, instead scrambling to her feet. Every nerve in her body urged her forward. Her mind raced, finally landing on one thought. If this was her chance for adventure, she wasn't going to miss it. The air crackled as the hole started to shrink. Maire steeled herself, and jumped through.

\--------

There was a lot more space between her and the woman on the other side than Maire had anticipated, and the space itself was strange. Colors, shapes, and sounds swirled around her, vivid and disorienting. It felt as if her every molecule was being separated and put back together infinitely in a single instant. Sharp, burning pain took over her entire being. She would have thought she was screaming, if she thought she had lungs or vocal chords with which to do it.

Maire gasped for breath as she fell hard on a solid stone floor.

"Keep the sacrifice still."

A deep voice commanded attention. It was strangely familiar, but Maire didn't have the brainpower to be unnerved by that. She groaned, forcing herself to look up.

There was a figure standing in front of the woman from before. He was tall. More than that, he was immense. A mangled hand reached in front of him, holding a glowing silver orb.

_Corypheus?_

Maire had less than a moment to process this revelation before the orb was slapped out of the magister's hand and sent flying toward her face. She snatched it off the ground instinctively and screamed. It shook, violent and hot, burning a hole in Maire's left palm.

There was a howl of rage as Corypheus dove toward her, but before he could get close, the world exploded in green light once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maire - My-rah  
> Aiofe - Ee-fah  
> Ailbhe - Al-vah


End file.
